


I Don't Believe in Miracles

by Lemonsmoothie



Category: Big Hero 6: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonsmoothie/pseuds/Lemonsmoothie
Summary: After the events of Countdown to Catastrophe, Bob "Obake" Aken finds himself in the afterlife. One shot.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	I Don't Believe in Miracles

“I Don’t Believe in Miracles” 

Author’s Note: This plot bunny has been nagging me since the original air date of Countdown to Catastrophe. What if Obake met Tadashi in the afterlife and they just…talked? 

Obake, real name Bob Aken, was not a superstitious sort. He never had been. Death had been a specter over his head, but he held no such romantic notions about going into the light. It was simply an inevitability, one that crept ever onward due to the brain tumor that was slowly killing him. 

In the few times he did allow himself to indulge in pleasant thoughts about what was beyond the grave, it was to picture himself talking with history’s greatest scientific minds. The mundanity of life would be worth it if he could discuss math with Benoit Mandelbrot or astrophysics with Lenore Shimamoto. 

Of course, that was just wishful thinking.

He looked around. He was seated in a small wooden chair at a table, like the ones inside the Lucky Cat café. The table was centrally placed in a small room that resembled a home library or perhaps a study. Three walls were lined with bookshelves filled with thick-looking tomes. A small antique-looking desk was pushed against the free wall and piled high with a few books and a lot of papers. There were also portraits on the free wall: of Hiro, of Cass, of the other members of Big Hero 6, of a man and woman Obake assumed to be the deceased Hamada parents. Looking down at himself, he looked…fine. Not even a tear on his clothing. Certainly didn’t look like he had been crushed to death. And he felt absolutely no pain. 

Seated across the table was Tadashi Hamada. His head was bare, but he was wearing a green blazer over a black shirt. 

“I admit this is more interesting than clouds and angels playing harps,” Obake finally said. “But how on earth did I end up in heaven? Were the judges of the dead drunk on the job?” 

Tadashi’s expression did not change. “Why do you think you’re in heaven? Think of what you’ve done.” 

“I’m aware of what I’ve done.” Kidnapped your brother, tried to level a city, oh, and wore your face the way a mummy case wears a pharoah’s. “I know what I should have received. It’s a lot warmer than this. But since you’re here with me, I’m not in…”

“This isn’t heaven.” 

“Come now, Tadashi Hamada,” Obake replied. “If there ever was a pure soul, you were it.” 

This time Tadashi looked saddened. 

“All right, if this isn’t heaven, where are we?” Obake said. 

“This is my field,” Tadashi said. “And my will dominates everything in it.” 

“…It sure is warm.” Not temperature-wise. As in, warm fuzzy feelings. It was a little off-putting, to be honest. 

Tadashi ignored this observation. “I see you’re aware of your death. Most of the recently deceased are not.” 

“It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?” Obake shot back. “You here, that my body is probably under ten tons of rubble?” Not that it mattered. “Why you?” 

“What do you mean?” Tadashi asked. 

“Why am I here talking to you?” Obake asked. 

“It’s part of the afterlife system,” Tadashi began. “Souls like you are guided to the next plane of existence. And I’m your assigned spirit guide.” 

“And what is the next plane of existence?” 

“I can’t tell you,” Tadashi said. “I can only show you the path. It’s up to you if you wish to walk it. Redemption is a long road, and you have a long walk ahead of you. You’ve already realized this, which does make my job easier…” Tadashi trailed off. “How do you want me to address you?” 

“I beg your pardon?” Obake asked. 

“We’re going to be spending some time together,” Tadashi explained. “You’re older than me, so I don’t think you want me to call you Bob. How about Mr. Aken? Or would you prefer Obake?” 

“Obake’s fine. You know who I am?” Obake asked. 

“I know who you are, and I know everything you’ve done,” Tadashi’s voice became uncharacteristically cold. “Do not mistake my professionalism for warmth. I am a judge of souls now, and you will find me a harsh judge. I despise you for everything you did to Hiro and if I could punish you for it, I would. But I believe your treatment of Hiro was out of love. A twisted, ugly love, but still love. And because you have love in your heart, I believe you are not beyond salvation.” 

“I went over this with your pet project,” Obake retorted. “I am a violent psychopath with no moral compass. How could you possibly think I ever loved Hiro?” 

“You wanted to be Hiro’s father, not just his teacher. The mental illness that resulted from your brain tumor twisted a normally positive paternalistic impulse into something horrible and abusive.” 

“That is patently absurd,” Obake said. 

“Come on. What did you say when you pretended to be me? ‘I only want what’s best for you.’ And when Hiro escaped, you acted very much like a father who just found out his son ran away. But there’s something else that makes me think you have love. I believe only those with love in their hearts can create truly wonderful things.”

“You have lots of love in your heart,” Obake said. “That much is clear. And Baymax is a wonder. But you shouldn’t generalize.” 

“Look at Krei. He doesn’t have love in his heart. That’s why his work is…” Tadashi trailed off. 

“Not fit to wipe one’s rear?” Obake asked dryly. 

“There was a reason they recalled the Krei bidets,” Tadashi said without missing a beat. “But your work is magnificent. A robot girl that could fool my brother, a robotics expert? The kiss was a disturbing touch, though.” 

“I didn’t tell her to do that,” Obake said. 

“My point is, your work is amazing, and I believe that you wouldn’t have been able to create if you lacked love.” 

“You’re giving me too credit,” Obake said.

“Today I just wanted to ask you some questions,” Tadashi continued, undeterred. “If you don’t wish to answer, I won’t pry. Though I must remind you that you cannot move on from this place until you have left your worldly cares behind.” 

“Very well. What would you like to ask me?” Obake asked, rubbing his temples wearily. Sartre always said that hell was other people. Tadashi Hamada was intelligent and a competent conversationalist, but still. It was embarrassing to talk so frankly about himself and Hiro and his ill-fated plans. 

“Whatever happened to the dreams you had? All your ideas to make the world a better place?” Tadashi asked. 

A very Tadashi-like question. Obake paused before answering. “You wouldn’t understand because you died before you got to see the world. But it’s a natural part of the life cycle. You realize where you are is not where you wanted to be as a child. Think of a kid who says he wants to be an astronaut. If you saw that child twenty years later, he’s a normal businessman. Dreams fade. Disappointment sets in. For me, it just happened faster than normal. I did have those ideas. I did believe I could make a difference. But I was wrong. And that’s why I cast everything off. My foolish ideals, the happier memories with Granville and Wendy, my real name. I couldn’t give Hiro the world, but I did intend to work hard as his teacher. But I was wrong. He rejected my future, he rejected me.” 

“Can you tell me more about that? Why you wanted to level San Fransokyo? You said you wanted to rebuild it into a center of learning and research, but we already have world-class universities.” 

“Well, isn’t that obvious? A forest fire isn’t always a bad thing. The fire burns away deadwood and the ash nourishes the soil. San Fransokyo does have great universities, yes, but there’s still the problem of a small group of the educated and the ignorant masses. Most people are satisfied being in that cave watching the shadows on the wall.” 

“The allegory of the cave?” Tadashi observed. “You surprise me. I thought you considered the humanities unnecessary.” 

“I did pay attention in philosophy class,” Obake retorted. “Supposedly most people are chained down in the cave, and only a few will break the chains and go out into the real world. But I think those chains don’t exist. Everyone could go out into the light and see the world as it is, not their shallow perception of the world. To rebuild San Fransokyo from the ground up would be to demolish the cave around the populace, to force them out of their self-imposed ignorance. I believed if anyone could have done it, it was Hiro.” 

Tadashi rose from his chair. “I want to show you something. Can you stand?” 

Obake stood up. 

The scenery faded until it looked like an abandoned warehouse. 

Trina, looking slightly older…and in clothes very similar to his own. She had even styled her hair like his down to the red streak. Trina was yelling at Hiro, who was wearing different armor. Unlike Trina, Hiro didn’t look that much older. 

“He is gone! Father is gone! You were there! It was your fault!” 

The scene stopped, as if he had been watching it on a television and someone from above had hit the pause button. 

“She mourned you, Obake,” Tadashi said. “You made a robot that could grieve. That’s another reason I think you wanted to be a father. It was no accident she was attached to you. You had to program that into her.” 

“I’m sure your Baymax could do her one better,” Obake said, turning away from the frozen scene. 

“I’m not sure. Baymax’s duty as a healthcare provider was primary. Grief would only be a distraction. Can you imagine if doctors mourned the ones they couldn’t save? As sad as it is, detachment is necessary for survival in the healthcare world,” Tadashi said. 

“What was this vignette?” Obake asked. 

“What came to pass after you left Trina behind to fend for herself,” Tadashi took on more of that earlier coldness. 

“As in, the future?” Obake asked. 

“Yes. This world exists outside of time. I could show you the distant past, the distant future.” 

“Thank you for showing me this, at least,” Obake said. “I’m happy to see Hiro again, even if he is being an irritating goody-goody as before.” 

“And your daughter?” Tadashi asked. 

“I don’t like seeing her like this. She looks too human. Acts too human. It’s rather disturbing.” Obake said. 

“People might say that an artificial intelligence that can grieve is a miracle,” Tadashi said. 

“Well, I don’t believe in miracles,” Obake replied. 

The scenery faded around them and returned to the small room. Tadashi’s field, as he called it. 

There was a young man standing near the small table. He was dressed, like Tadashi, in earth tones: a green sweater, khaki pants, and leather loafers. A tray with a coffeepot, empty cups, and a sugar bowl filled with sugar cubes was now on the table. The man poured a cup of coffee and proffered it to Tadashi. “I brought you some coffee.” 

Tadashi accepted the cup happily. “Thank you, Sitka!” He quickly began sipping it. 

The man, Sitka, smirked. “It’s decaf.” 

Tadashi did a spit-take. “Bluuurgh! Are you trying to poison me?!” 

“Kuluk, you know how I feel about artificial stimulants,” Sitka said. “If your work doesn’t keep you awake, then you should find a new line of work that does.” 

“I can’t exactly check the want ads for a new job,” Tadashi said. “Why can’t you just let me have this?! It was good enough for Voltaire; it’s good enough for me.” 

Obake didn’t bother pointing out that Voltaire’s habit of between fifty and seventy cups per day might have been an urban myth. At the very least, Voltaire had a serious addiction and addiction shouldn’t be emulated…

“How about some butterfly pea tea?” Sitka asked as Tadashi sat down. 

Tadashi sighed. “Fine. Deal.” 

Sitka vanished. There was no other way to describe it. He was just gone. No puff of smoke, no flash of light. 

Tadashi grumbled. “Why worry about my caffeine intake? We’re already dead…”

Obake remained silent but took a seat across from Tadashi. 

Sitka reappeared a few minutes later, carrying a silver tray with a teapot and two cups. There were also lemon slices and a cup containing honey. He pushed the coffee tray aside to make room for the tea tray and then poured tea into both cups. The tea was a deep blue hue. From the Clitoria ternatea plant, if Obake remembered correctly. He was more of a coffee person. 

“I know you weren’t too excited about me taking this case,” Tadashi said, picking up one of the cups and sipping it. 

“Because it’s a bad idea!” Sitka cried. “There’s a reason no one wanted the case.” 

“Someone had to help him,” Tadashi asserted. 

“And that someone doesn’t have to be you…” Sitka said. 

“Sitka, he’s right here…” Tadashi said. 

“He doesn’t deserve politeness,” Sitka said. “My current case is all his fault.” 

“So, you’re a spirit guide too, Mr. Sitka?” Obake asked. “I believe you’re mistaken. I don’t mean to disrespect the dead by arguing with them, but nor do I have any intention of answering for something I have no memory of!” 

“Do you recall the name Warren Rodney?” Sitka asked dryly. 

“He’s the Chief of Police of San Fransokyo,” Obake answered. No threat to him, of course. A dullard and a consummate bureaucrat. 

“He was the Chief. He killed himself in shame for being unable to stop you. The sole casualty of the catastrophe you wanted to unleash upon the populace…” 

Obake fell silent. 

“He didn’t intend for that to happen,” Tadashi said. “But you took a genocidal dictator’s case once. What’s an insane supervillain compared to that?” 

“I’ve also been doing this longer than you have, Sitka retorted. “Haste makes for accidents, and you’ve had your share of accidents already.” 

“I’ve noted your objections, Sitka. You’ve said your piece. Now leave us for now,” Tadashi said firmly. 

“At the risk of sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, you should really listen to your boyfriend,” Obake said. “I won’t take it as a slight if you abandon me. It speaks to your character that you’re even able to look at me.” Why did Hiro’s brother have to be such a boy scout? It would be a lot easier if Tadashi did hate him…

“Ha ha,” Tadashi laughed sarcastically. “Nice try. But I don’t give up easily.” 

“The stubbornness is genetic, just as a fair warning,” Sitka said. “You thought his brother was bad, but where do you think he got it? But I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, Tadashi.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t need it,” Tadashi said as Sitka vanished again. 

“Aren’t we confident?” Obake said. “Need I remind you: psychopath who committed multiple vicious acts of extreme violence?” 

“Those vicious acts were due to the brain tumor that interfered with your morality network,” Tadashi said. “But you’ve lost your body and exist only as a mind and spirit now. Which means you don’t have the brain tumor anymore.” 

“But if that’s true, how can I touch things?” Obake picked up the second cup of tea that Sitka had poured. He took a sip. “How can I taste?” 

“How does the tea taste?” Tadashi asked. 

“Earthy, rich…” Obake said. “Your boyfriend is quite skilled at brewing tea. It also tastes quite…” It was odd. It must be like someone with synesthesia feels when they hear colors or taste shapes. “It tastes quite kind.” 

“It’s because this plane is just spiritual energy, and our spirits read that energy. We perceive it as sight, sound, and taste because we’re so used to receiving information from our environment via our senses. It takes some getting used to.” 

“So why do souls like you and Mr. Sitka guide the dead?” Obake asked. “Can’t whomever is in charge do it themselves?” 

“Because we know what it’s like,” Tadashi said. “I used to think that prioritizing the living was the best course of action. What more could we do for the dead? But the dead do need guidance. Especially ones like you.” 

“I asked your pet project to leave me, and I stand by that decision,” Obake began. “I don’t want your pity. I lived for myself and in the end, I died for myself. Just get yourself another charity case. There is nothing more than you could do for me.” 

“No,” Tadashi said. “You know what they used to call me in school? The irresistible force. Because I had legendary patience.” 

“Then pour yourself another cup,” Obake answered. “You’re going to be here a while.” If Tadashi claimed to be an irresistible force, Obake would just have to be the immovable object. The Hamadas were stubborn? They had nothing on the Akens! 

The End…for now 

Author’s Note: Yes, that is the same Sitka from Brother Bear. I ship him and Tadashi like the sun and moon.


End file.
